


Still Flying

by Clarice Chiara Sorcha (claricechiarasorcha)



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: A Pretence At Fluff, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Poor Life Choices, Something Like Crack, outlaws on the run
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-26 02:29:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7556584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/claricechiarasorcha/pseuds/Clarice%20Chiara%20Sorcha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Hux recovers from a brief illness, Kylo Ren tries to be helpful.</p>
<p>...emphasis on the <i>tries</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Still Flying

**Author's Note:**

> So, the most recent fic I wrote was HORRIBLE and I felt inclined to tilt my hand at something "fluffy" instead. But you know what? I'm no good whatsoever with fluff. [head in hands] _Anyway_ , this fic takes place in a canon AU where Ren and Hux have together ditched the Order and are freelancing fugitives careening about the galaxy with varying degrees of success; while it's not intended as an actual sequel, if you want some context as to how they could have ended up this way, my earlier fic _[Still Alive](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5863951)_ might provide some. Otherwise: this is just a poor attempt at something _nice_ happening to these two assholes. For once. Oh, _god_.

The bed bowed beneath his sudden weight, its low groan matched by Hux’s own. One great hand came about, curved back over the matted mess of his hair; Ren’s murmur presumably had been intended to sound soothing, though to Hux’s ear it held many of the same qualities of nails over durasteel.

Ren’s hand still moved in three slow strokes over his brow, before ending in a cradle at the back of his head. The fever, though long broken, had left Hux’s hair in utter ruin; squirming beneath Ren’s touch, muscles having turned half to water through both recent slumber and illness, Hux managed to turn his head. Only then did his face emerge from the cocoon of blankets he’d been bundled into for what felt like three cycles too long.

“Ren?”

The other man didn’t meet his eyes. Instead, Ren frowned at Hux’s face as if interpreting some obscurely coded holo, head tilted and brows deeply furrowed; even his expressive dark eyes had turned utterly unreadable. Then one great palm pressed tight to his forehead. Hux flinched away, slapped at the thick muscles of his arm.

“ _Ren_?”

Finally he blinked, face smoothing out into the roughest approximation of a smile. “Your fever’s gone.”

This time, when Hux shoved at his hand, Ren actually withdrew it. “It’s been gone for a while. I’m just _sleeping_. I’m _fine_.”

“But you never just sleep,” he replied, wide lips already hovering upon the verge of a whole new petulant frown. And Hux, only two minutes fully conscious, felt his exasperation reach near-critical levels.

“I was _sick_.”

“I’ve seen you on the bridge in full uniform when a lesser officer would have been in a bacta tank.”

“I’m not a lesser man,” he snapped – then, before he could entirely check himself, “And I no longer _have_ a bridge to be on.”

The wince that crossed Ren’s scarred face then might have given him a sense of victory, had they not both been the ultimate losers of that particular battle. And as Ren remained very still, and very quiet, Hux frowned to see him – to really _look_ at him for the first time since the day he’d himself taken poorly.

Ren’s own colour could not be called entirely healthy, though Hux noted no other real sense of impending sickness in him. Ren had naturally already boasted of increased immunity by way of his beloved Force. Hux had figured that claim for perhaps fifteen percent fact and seventy five percent actual bullshit, but whatever else the man was, _stubborn as fuck_ was high on the list. That insufferable attitude would at least keep him functional when Hux could not be, certainly.

But he had a point. Had they been on the _Finalizer_ , Hux never would have indulged an illness to this extent. But said star destroyer was gone, along with the career he’d practised upon it. Hux didn’t need to push himself to good health. It was perfectly permissible that he might choose instead to meander along as slowly as he pleased, leaving Ren to shoulder the majority of the workload for once.

And while such an action was probably a clear invitation to disaster, Hux suddenly heaved himself upright, glaring even as his head rocked with sudden dizzying disorientation. “Ren, you’re supposed to be watching the ship.” Already forced by rising nausea to reconsider his spatial orientation, Hux flopped down again with far more intent than was entirely necessary, purposefully presenting his back. “Go. _Out_. Leave me to sleep.”

“I miss you.”

Even while now prone on his back, Hux narrowed his eyes at Ren in a manner that would have caused one of his former officers to start sobbing into their console. “I know you don’t necessarily _look_ your age, but when you behave like a ten year old child, Ren, I really do start wondering why I haven’t spaced you yet.”

“See, this is what I miss,” he said, terribly earnest. “I haven’t been brutally and needlessly insulted in a full cycle. I’m starting to feel like I could do better than this.”

One arm fell over his eyes, for all the sharp movement didn’t help the resurgence of his earlier headache. “Oh, do shut up, Ren. You couldn’t moisture farm a tropical rainforest without me having to explain to you what water even _is_ , first.”

Something suspiciously close to a chuckle rumbled in that great chest as Ren dropped down beside him; already, broad arms sneaked around him, pulling him close where he would otherwise wriggle away. “You see, this is what I mean,” Ren added, idiot nose nuzzling into his throat. “I _missed_ you.”

If not for the fact he’d been starting to feel the cold again, Hux would have kicked Ren out of the bed right there and then. Instead, he allowed Ren to burrow closer still. It only helped when Ren reached out with the Force to drag back over them the new blanket he had insisted on buying against Hux’s better judgement. He still had no idea what animal it had been skinned from, or even how Ren had obtained it – at least when he’d come in covered in blood, the blanket itself had been miraculously unspattered – but he couldn’t deny the warmth it provided, especially when he’d been at his worst.

Still, as Ren curled about him in ever tightening spiral, his eyes suddenly shot open.

“What are you doing?” Jerking an elbow back, he found only a wall of warm muscle, and one that barely grunted at the pathetic strike. “Ren! You’re supposed to be on watch!”

“The ship is fine.” The words slurred as he refused to move his lips from where they pressed tight to one shoulder. “All of the communication and sensors are online and in order. And then, I have the Force.” Satisfaction radiated from him, hot and heady, as he added, “So I can stay right here with _you_.”

With a sigh, Hux conceded Ren hadn’t been _completely_ remiss in what little duty he’d been entrusted with. But then: the feel of hips against his own, a slow insistent rub that only increased in tempo and force with each passing second, had his hands fisting in the sheets.

“ _Ren_.”

Whining, Ren refused to raise his head. “What?”

“The only reason you’ve missed me so,” he said, with glacial slow ease, “is currently pushing up against my ass. Kindly remove it from my vicinity, or I will permanently remove it from yours.”

The slow thrust of hips slowed, but his arms only tightened. Even as Hux tugged himself forward, lips closed over his throat; a shiver passed through him, sharp and sweet. That particular sensitive spot was one Ren always found with unerring accuracy, and Hux felt his own groin tighten, despite the irritation also growing in rapid tandem.

And though he said nothing aloud, Ren heard him – in mind or body, it didn’t matter. His generous lips allowed his tongue free, pressing it against his pulse. “But you’re so much better already,” he murmured, one hand skirting his chest, fingers trailing over the ladder of his rib cage, slipping forward to thumb at his navel. “And I can make you feel so good,” he added, too satisfied by half as fingertips tripped gentle over the trail leading to his cock. “I know what you _like_.”

Hux should never have taught Kylo Ren anything about sex. Especially as it seemed he had taught Kylo Ren _everything_ he knew about sex. But he’d proved a fast learner; adept and eager, Hux had almost enjoyed moulding Ren to exactly what he wished of in a long term partner. But then, he had the Force. It would not have surprised Hux in the slightest to find that Ren was just cheating.

“I need a shower,” he announced, pinching at his arm; Ren released it almost immediately, but Hux’s dread started before he even opened his mouth.

“I can help you with that.” And he was sitting up already, leaving Hux to frown up at him from where he still lay in the bed. One of the few true luxuries upon their latest anonymous little shuttle, it dominated the small room; over-sized and firmly mattressed, Ren kept it piled high with sheets and blankets suited to their individual tastes, all muddled together in hopeless tangle. While they were two tall men, and one broadly built at that, it managed to accommodate even their more creative indulgences quite admirably.

Ren, now standing in the small berth, had already set about shedding the trousers and shirts and boots and many belts of his mercenary persona. Hux ignored the way his stomach twisted to see the familiar lines and curves of that familiar body revealed with careless grace, and frowned instead at Ren’s hair. Their needful anonymity quite aside, it had really gotten far too long; while he wore it braided back, it was so beyond regulation that Hux wanted nothing more than to reach over and tug hard on its end. But Ren was already undoing it, shaking it out. And when he turned fully to Hux, he was the very picture of a savage creature from a backwards world – well, save for the pout, and the childish crinkle of the dark eyes above it.

“Hurry _up_ , Hux!”

He pushed up with a groan he couldn’t suppress, already cursing his own weakness. It had been little more than a common viral illness, taken no doubt from one of the backwater worlds they careened about. And Hux knew which one. His most recent mission had taken place upon a rainy world that reminded him uncomfortably of hazy long-ago memories of distant Arkanis. He’d spent far too many hours in a forested hide, lying on damp ground with sniper rifle in hand, unlit cigarette clenched between his teeth, unable to catch flame enough before the perpetual rain washed it to cold ash. Even after he’d taken first the target and then the tidy pay packet, he’d got a lecture from Ren. But Hux hadn’t needed his damn help – and certainly not that of the Force. He could survive without Ren. They stayed together from _choice_. Not because they had to.

He could leave any time he wanted.

And now Ren’s hands closed on him, stripping back his sleeping clothes. With eyes rolled to his hairline, Hux allowed it – he _was_ still tired – but when the arms came around him, lifting him up, he didn’t hesitate to elbow him in the throat.

“Ren! Put me _down_!”

Despite the lacking space, Ren strode heroically forward, apparently blissfully aware of how Hux squirmed like a feral felinx in his arms. “What? You were taking too long.”

“I can _walk_!”

“Sure you can walk,” he said, cheerful as he ducked to slam the door panel with one shoulder, “but _I_ can carry you.”

Hux let his head fall back against his shoulder, moaned. “Monstrous child.”

“I’m a full-grown man.” And his laughter turned throaty, low, even when Hux caught him in the abdomen with one sharp heel. “And I _know_ you like it that way.”

Once in the refresher, Ren released him, apparently without fear of reprisal. Hux had to sourly admit he’d judged Hux’s temper right, because when given a choice between a hot shower and smacking Kylo Ren right in the face, Hux would go for the water first every time – at least, when still encrusted in the grime of two days in bed, he would.

One benefit of the last damned mission did come into its own here, at least: the auxiliary water tanks brimmed with fresh clear rainwater collected while on-planet. In that, Hux could spoil himself with a shower of actual water without so much as a second thought. Wedged together, a tangle of hands and too-long limbs, they sluiced down, and then turned the flow off. In the steam that remained, time became little more than the endless passage of slick hands and smooth lips.

For all his earlier disinterest, Hux had actually taken quite a shine to Ren’s ridiculous cock from the very first time he’d seen it. He indulged himself freely now: hot and hard and thick in his hands, then all that and more between his lips. Ren, in turn, curled long fingers up inside him with knowing skill, callused fingers working in languorous slide over his impatient dick.

Later, back in the room, Hux dressed in actual clothing for the first time in three days. Ren, hair dripping, lounged naked as he watched Hux with dark eyes narrowed.

“So you’re _really_ all better, now?”

Hux, being better than a savage, had now finished drying his own hair; it was also far longer than it ought to be, already darkening to match the rich red of his thickening beard. With a scowl, Hux threw the towel at him. “Put some clothes on.”

Ren flicked two fingers out, sent the towel careening back into the ‘fresher. “I have a planet in mind,” he said, legs falling even more obscenely wide. “We need supplies – I took another mission, while you were sleeping. It’s not for a few cycles, we need to jump a couple of systems, but…”

Hux purposefully kept his eyes well above groin level. He was better than that, he _was_. “You know I like to vet your missions,” he pointed out instead, not bothering to blunt the edge of his voice; Ren only rolled his eyes.

“You were sleeping.”

“Well, you should have woken me up!”

And he stood, turning for the cockpit, strolling buck-naked through the ship as if he didn’t know perfectly well it drove Hux mad. “Look, you can ask the contact about it when we land. And we will, soon. I need to get some more information before we set out.”

“Then put some damn _clothes_ on!”

And his laughter drifted back. “Don’t you want a _ride_ first, General?”

He did, but that wasn’t the point. Fortunately, Ren did actually dress before dropping them out of hyperspace, though Hux hadn’t doubted he would. Ren had an odd fondness for nakedness around the former First Order general, but around others, he returned to something very close to how he’d dressed as the Master of the Knights of Ren. No helmet, perhaps, but his hoods and cowls had never been fully discarded.

 Ren’s destination proved to be a planet Hux didn’t find familiar, but those of the outer mid rim rarely were; the Unknown Regions had been his proving ground, and also where the First Order had concentrated its efforts towards securing civilian populations for its own needs. The areas they haunted now had largely been of strategic interest to the Order only in terms of shipping routes. Even then, those had never been Hux’s particular speciality or strict interest, given he’d been instead both a weapons engineer and the nominal overseer of the Stormtrooper programme.

A low coughing fit took him hard in the chest almost the moment they disembarked; the heavy pollution of the air reached right down his throat and clenched his lungs tight. Ignoring Ren’s sideways look, Hux flipped his hood up, and scowled direly at the dubious excuse for scenery as they left the port facilities.

The view didn’t improve, even as they pushed through the clogged streets until Ren took an abrupt left and pulled him into his apparent choice of terminus: some dive cantina, utterly like a million other dive cantinas throughout the galaxy. His returned headache only throbbed all the harder, absolutely out of tune with the warbling excuse for music permeating the thickened smoky air.

Hux regretted coming even as Ren slid them into a dark booth near the back, its position offering at least a little quiet. For all he genuinely _did_ prefer to check Ren’s missions – the man had a nasty habit of accepting the most unreasonable monetary terms in favour of what he referred to as “the fun of it” – he truly was not in the mood. It had been easily to believe himself almost entirely recovered while lying first in his own bed, and then when being leisurely fucked in his ship’s refresher, but in the foul air of a disreputable port town, Hux now felt no real desire to do anything but poke his own eyes out.

Only a few humans lingered in this dismal place. With bleary eyes and a throbbing head, Hux couldn’t be bothered identifying the species of anyone else. It hardly mattered, beyond the fact they all appeared sour enough, though not actively hostile. His own blasters, strapped to hip and ankle, were comfort enough; the vibroblades in his sleeves provided a perfect grace note. Hux might not be in maximum health, but he wouldn’t have left the ship unless he considered himself more than ready to defend himself.

Ren had already engaged the conversation of what he supposed was a Bri'ahl, though even by their standards his ears were too large for its blunt head; they out-gunned even Ren’s own, which Hux had once unfavourably compared to a primitive antenna setup. Nursing his drink, Hux let his eyes droop. The alcohol had been cut with jet fuel, by the way it burned his throat and guts. He couldn’t say he cared.

And when an elbow jostled his sometime later, he frowned, but didn’t shove back. “You didn’t hear any of that, did you?”

“No.” Slow, now, Hux turned and peered with half-hearted irritation at Ren, still hooded and cowled even in the stifling heat of the crowded cantina. “So I suppose if you die, I get to keep the ship and at last get a good night’s sleep without being pawed or slobbered over.” And he scowled back down at his drink, as if will alone would turn it into something he could actually imbibe. “I am very much looking forward to that.”

He didn’t need to look up to know Ren was staring at him. Or that his expression would undoubtedly be almost _fond_. With a groaned, Hux bent over himself, and wondered how embarrassing it would be, to order Ren to bridal-carry him all the way back to their ship.

“I have an idea.”

He stiffened. Sometimes it was all too easy to forget he shared his outlaw bed with a bloody mindreader. “May whatever gods still exist preserve us all.”

“Wait there.”

Even had Hux protested, Ren had already taken to his feet, melting into the crowd with an ease that Hux might have envied, had he felt himself capable of actually standing. When he returned, again far too quickly to be quite natural, Ren held two shallow dishes. Hux frowned down at the sight of their contents: gelatinous, cold and – very, _very_ pink. Turning that same frown over to Ren, he didn’t even reach for the accompanying spoon.

“What in the kriff is this?”

“Should’ve known, what with those terrible starship rations you stuck to, you’d never have had it.” And Ren flicked the bowl. “Just eat it. You’ll like it.”

“You have no idea what I like.”

“Oh, I know _something_ of what you like.” Had Hux had energy enough to spare, he’d have kicked Ren in the shins for that gleam in his eyes. Instead, with a creeping flush already exposing itself from behind his high collar, Hux turned away and shoved a spoonful into his mouth before he could think twice. He’d never one to turn down a challenge, for all his unrefined palate had often been severely tested by life on the run in the rim.

And his eyes widened. The confection was not only very pink, but very _sweet_. And smooth, and creamy. And deliciously cold on a still aching throat. Another spoonful made its way to his mouth, just to check. And then, another. And another. It was only ever to be sure of that singular first impression, but Hux soon found he’d devoured the entire bowl in moments.

But the stranger thing happened when he turned, and noticed that his companion had fallen to _shaking with laughter_ ; Ren’s eyes were damp with tears when he raised his hands in surrender, black and bright and brilliant.

“I _told_ you you’d like it.”

The expression upon Kylo Ren’s face now could be called nothing else but unbearably smug. At times such as these, Hux had to almost miss the blasted helmet. He took his revenge by instead leaning forward, snagging Ren’s own untouched bowl with his spoon. “You’re not eating that,” he observed with casual ease. “Give it to me.” But with an unholy screech over the table, spoon hooked firmly into the dessert, Hux had already taken it. A moment later, and he was shovelling it into his mouth with an easy greed he hadn’t used since he’d been indoctrinated into his father’s academy programmes at the age of five.

“Hey,” Ren said, his shock turning to pure irritation as he finally realised what Hux had just done. “Hey, that’s mine!”

With a smirk limned all in quite literal cream, Hux took another too-large bite, and didn’t care that it ruined his impeccable diction. “Hostile takeover. It’s mine now. Get your own.”

The struggle that erupted was hardly unexpected; with the spoon already held in tight fist, Hux was already quite prepared for one. But for all Hux fought well – and fought dirty, at that – Ren had the ability to outright cheat. Which he then did, by floating the disputed bowl right above their heads. For a long, slow moment Hux only stared at it. And then, he reached down, and levelled the smaller of his two blasters right in Ren’s blinking stupid face.

“What are you doing?”

He smiled. “Give it to me.”

“Just buy some _more_!”

“Why don’t you buy me some more?” And he grinned wider, this time to show his teeth. “Or you could earn yourself a blaster shot between the eyes. Whichever works better for you.”

“You wouldn’t.” A moment later, and his eyes widened. “ _Hux!_ ”

As the bowl fell in shattering pieces, the cantina screeched to a half around them, the faces of what felt all its patrons and staff turned towards them both. “Good one, _Solo_ ,” Hux snapped, already holstering one blaster as he reached for the other; he couldn’t help but smirk at Ren’s aghast face, even as he too reached for a weapon. “So – do you run any faster than me, yet?”

Whether it was the indoor shot, or Ren’s ill-advised use of the name of a known fugitive with a more than healthy bounty on his head, Hux would never know. Not that he cared. His lungs screamed blue murder as they scrambled first for the door, and then the alley, and then the street, but it was hard to know if he was laughing or choking. Besides, any real dramatics of their escape were reduced exponentially by Ren’s liberal use of the Force. It still proved a somewhat more interesting trip than a stroll down the corridors of the _Finalizer_.

Only when they’d been thrown into hyperspace did Ren turn to him. And yet, for all the ridiculousness of the situation, no anger coloured either features or aura. “Hux,” he said, and there was an actual hesitance to his words even as he said, “you know, if you didn’t want me to take that mission…you could have just _said_ so.”

Only when he stood from the co-pilot’s chair did Hux realise for the first time he hadn’t even buckled himself it. As he swayed slightly, one hand reaching out to the seatback to stop himself from slithering right down to the floor, Hux just shrugged. He hadn’t even had one full drink, he couldn’t be _drunk_. “I’m going back to sleep,” he announced, and his voice took on the commanding tone he’d once had such good and practical use for. “Just keep an eye on our rear, and an ear on the comms, and your Force on…whatever it is you use your mystical nonsense on. And don’t even _think_ of slinking back into bed until we’re well out of range.”

Mercifully, it appeared Ren actually listened. When Hux woke again, the ship’s chrono announced it had almost been an entire standard cycle since he’d passed out face-first on their bed. And even as he scowled a voice rose up behind him, like an uncertain sun cresting some distant horizon.

“It’s fine. We didn’t pick up any tails.” Ren spoke from the door, and Hux winced; always with the mind-reading, that one. And even as he rolled over, scowled against even the dim light of the berth, Ren reached up, scratched at his ear. “You know, it was good money. That job you lost me.”

Hux stretched out his back, groaned at the pop of vertebrae, one after the other. “I’m sure we’ll get more,” he said, and scoured his hand over sleep-heavy eyes. “We always do.”

“You blew our cover.”

“They didn’t really believe it.”

“I didn’t have time to wipe everyone’s memories.” And somehow Ren sounded almost ashamed when he added, “We’ll have to change ship again.”

He clenched his eyes shut, swallowed hard. Sick or not, Hux knew it had been his own fault. And he’d never been one to shy away from any responsibility. “I was tired of this one anyway,” he offered, and then sat up; his stomach gave first an uneasy roll, and then a low rumble. He glanced down, realised he couldn’t recall in the slightest when he’d last eaten. And the ice cream didn’t count.

Still in the doorway, Ren’s long face had taken on a thoughtful air. Before Hux could tell him to take a holo, it would last longer, he turned. And when he turned back, he held a small bowl in his hands.

“…you went back there while I was _sleeping_?

Snorting, Ren moved forward, perched upon the side of the bed in what seemed a particularly precarious fashion. “I picked it up on one of the stations. We needed to refuel.” And he was close, now – too close. “Hux,” he said, very sudden. “Do you even _know_?”

He kept his hands to himself, though he stared only at the bowl. “Know what?”

“That I would give you anything. _Everything_.” And Hux glanced up, wished he hadn’t when he saw the raw emotion of Kylo Ren’s eyes when he whispered, “If you only asked.”

Hux returned to staring at the bowl. “I know that.”

“Well.” And the bowl passed between them, his voice rough and hoarse. “Don’t ever forget it.”

But Hux could not move. It was Ren who took the spoon first. “Are you stealing my ice cream again?” he asked, lips pursed.

“No.” And the spoon rose, went into his own mouth. Then Ren leaned forward, his kiss bearing the taste of exotic fruit as he smiled against Hux’s soft lips. “No, I wouldn’t _dare_.”

Hux closed his eyes, and snorted. Then he wound a hand around his neck and returned his smile, even as he bit down hard. Blood did always make everything taste that little bit sweeter.

**Author's Note:**

> One week later, despite all his manly protests to the contrary, Ren totally falls ill with the exact same virus Hux just vanquished. He almost gets smothered by a pillow before the first day is out. But then, Hux ends up making him (ration packet) soup and hot sweet tea and decides to keep him because, well. You don't get dick like _that_ every day out in the rim, do you.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [It's a Classic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7640983) by [Murasaki99](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Murasaki99/pseuds/Murasaki99)




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